Revenge Of The White Dragon
by Red Witch
Summary: Mallory is forced to team up with an old rival in order to assassinate another old rival who wants to even the score. Meanwhile the rest of the Figgis Agency is hired to guard an art gallery show.


**The disclaimer telling all of you that I don't own any Archer characters has gone to an art show. Another day, another adventure in California for the gang! And I thought of an excuse to put in a character that looks and sounds like the actor Jim Carter.**

 **Revenge Of The White Dragon**

"All right! Figgis Agency **listen up!"** Cyril bellowed to his staff in his office. His staff groaned at annoyance at his newfound temporary bravado. Which was quite frankly starting to get annoying.

"You don't have to yell Cyril," Ray frowned. "We're all right here."

"Well most of us," Archer looked around. "I don't see my mother."

"It doesn't matter," Cyril waved. "She's not part of this mission anyway. Honestly I'm relieved at that."

"So what **is** this mission?" Lana asked.

Cyril turned on the monitor revealing a forty something year old woman with short spiky blonde hair in a trendy outfit. "This is Alex Malix. Actress slash model slash artist."

"I recognize her!" Pam spoke up. "She used to play the teenage daughter on that sitcom! You know? The one everyone was watching way back then!"

"That narrows it down to **all** of them," Ray quipped. "But she does look familiar to me too."

"She was on that show! Remember?" Pam said. "And then they wrote her out of the show because of that thing!"

"Oh you mean when she went nuts and went after her co-stars with a chainsaw?" Archer blinked.

" **That's** the one!" Pam said. "And then she was like gone for a while and went to rehab. Did some model shows. Then went on that cable show about the drugs and stuff."

"Yeah and then she did so many **real** drugs they wrote out her character and replaced her with Tommy Chong," Archer remembered. "I remember now."

"Well she's an artist now and she has a gallery show tonight and guess who's been hired to be security there?" Cyril said.

"Who?" Cheryl asked.

"Us!" Cyril snapped.

"No seriously," Cheryl giggled. "Who?"

"He's not kidding Cheryl," Pam said.

"So basically we've been hired to guard some has-been's art that nobody would probably want in the first place?" Archer groaned.

"Archer we need more clients to build up a clientele," Cyril told him.

"Yeah but let's face it," Archer snorted. "Malix isn't exactly an A-Lister."

"She's not even a C-Lister," Ray admitted.

"Barely even a D-Lister," Pam added. "Is there such a thing as an E-Lister? Because if there was that would be her."

"All right…" Cyril let out a breath.

"Cyril not even Dancing With the Stars wants her!" Archer protested.

"Well that's mostly because of her ongoing feud with Tom Bergeron," Pam explained. "But not even all the other reality show rip offs want her."

"That woman's had more meltdowns than Brittany Spears, Miley Cyrus, the Sex Pistols and Three Mile Island combined," Ray added.

"Mallory's had fewer blackout drunks than her," Lana added.

"And that is a very high number to beat," Archer agreed.

"Look! I get it! She's not exactly the richest or most well-known client but she's paying good money…" Cyril told his staff. "Well okay technically her mother is paying us good money but it's a job and it's only for one night!"

"You realize that's the line they tell new hookers right?" Archer asked.

"Do **you** realize they are going to have a lot of art critics and rich collectors at this gallery show?" Cyril asked. "While we're guarding the art, Lana, Ray and I will be working the room networking."

"Okay I get why you asked Ray to network in an art gallery show," Archer held up his hand. "But why Lana and not me?"

"Wait, why is **Ray** more credible than me?" Lana did a double take.

"It's not just because I'm gay right?" Ray gave him a look.

"Well it doesn't hurt," Archer admitted. "But I was going for the fact that you minored in art while in college."

"Oh yeah there's that," Ray nodded. "And the fact that I've posed as an art collector slash dealer on a few missions."

"Oh right," Lana realized.

"And the fact that Ray is a pretty good artist himself," Krieger added.

"All right! I **get it!"** Lana barked. "But still why not **me?"**

"Honestly, I've seen how you decorate your apartment and…" Archer shrugged.

"This from the man who has pictures of a woman's naked ass in his bedroom is criticizing **my taste** in art?" Lana barked.

"Tasteful paintings of a woman's ass," Archer corrected. "I find the human body beautiful in its natural form."

"Me too!" Pam and Krieger said at the same time.

"And some unnatural forms," Krieger added.

"Me too," Pam admitted.

"I picked Lana because she's the least likely to insult everyone at the damn show!" Cyril snapped. "The rest of you are security. And since we're one person short I need you lot to be more alert than ever. Not that Ms. Archer would have been that much help in the first place but…"

"How come Mallory is getting out of this?" Lana asked. "I would have thought she'd have jumped at a chance to be on this assignment."

"Yeah rubbing elbows with the rich and hoity-toity crowd is what she **lives** for!" Pam agreed. "What gives?"

"She said she had an old friend to look up and meet with," Cyril told them. "Honestly I didn't ask for too many details."

"Eh, it's an excuse for us to go on without my mother complaining every five minutes," Archer waved. "I'm in. Besides knowing my mother, it's probably somewhere rich and swanky where she'd be embarrassed for us to show up at."

Meanwhile across the city of LA…

"I can't believe I have to meet **here** of all places," Mallory groaned to herself as she looked at the line for Pink's Hot Dog stand. "And it's not even noon yet!"

She was dressed wearing her tan trench coat and sunglasses over her clothes. "God Trudy Beekman and those society bitches of hers would have a _field day_ if she saw me slumming it up here."

She looked at the area with distain. "Outside. Not even a proper booth to talk in…I swear whoever sent me that coded message must have picked this place on purpose. Not only is it too out in the open for me to shoot, but so common…Ugh!"

She saw no point in delaying. She calmly walked to the picnic area in the back of the hot dog stand. She saw someone sitting at the furthest picnic table in the back with three hot dogs. She recognized the person immediately. "Damn it. It would have to be **him.** "

Sitting at the table was a man who was a dead ringer for the character of Mr. Carson from Downton Abbey. Only he was wearing a very smart brown suit without a tie.

"I guess it was too much to hope for that you'd be dead by now," Mallory walked up to the table.

"Hello Mallory," The man grinned, speaking with a British accent. "Have a hot dog. It's on me."

"Amadeus DeWolfe," Mallory growled. "I should have known you'd be one of the first rats to come after me."

"Oh come now Mallory," Amadeus smirked as she sat down. "Is that any way to speak to an old colleague?"

"We were never colleagues you cut rate Casanova!" Mallory snapped. "You were a mercenary who worked for whoever paid you enough money!"

"Said the pot to the kettle," Amadeus sneered. "You haven't exactly been picky about your choice of clientele over the decades. Or male companions."

"At least none of my companions were Nazi sympathizer whores you smuggled out of the country before they got their heads shaved!" Mallory growled.

"Is the woman who had a **forty something** year affair with the head of the KGB really going to lecture me about who I should or shouldn't have feelings for?" Amadeus snarled.

Mallory stiffened. "How do you…?"

"It's not exactly the world's best kept secret," Amadeus told her. "I mean a lot of people are out of the loop. But a few aren't…And that number is growing every day I might add. Not because I have loose lips. I may have been a lot of things to a lot of people in my day…But a squealer isn't one of them."

"So what **do** you want?" Mallory growled.

"Believe it or not Mallory I am here to warn you," Amadeus told her. "I'm assuming you are aware by now that the protection you've enjoyed all these years thanks to your many dalliances with many men in power…Well the warranty has run out on that."

"And there's a bounty on my head," Mallory folded her arms.

"Not officially. Not yet," Amadeus shrugged as he took a drink from a soda bottle. "You've made a lot of enemies over the years my dear. People who don't exactly share the same warm fuzzy feelings I have for you."

"Like **who**?" Mallory snapped.

"Shouldn't that be **like whom**?" Amadeus quipped.

"DeWolfe…" Mallory growled.

"Does the name Sergei Karnakov ring a bell?" Amadeus gave her a look.

"The White Dragon?" Mallory gasped. "He's still _**alive?**_ "

"Very much so," Amadeus sighed. "And he's just arrived in Los Angeles. Spoiler alert, he's not on vacation."

"I haven't thought about that bastard in what? Twenty five years!" Mallory was stunned.

"To be fair he was in a coma for fifteen of them," Amadeus sighed. "When he woke up he had one hell of a goal to get him through rehab."

"Revenge," Mallory growled.

"And now that you are no longer on the KGB's secret list of special friends," Amadeus explained. "He has the license and opportunity to go after you."

"Let me guess," Mallory groaned. "Katya…"

"Technically it was Barry," Amadeus shrugged. "During his tenure of the KGB. But the current head of the KGB doesn't see the need to change the status quo."

"Barry was head of the KGB years ago!" Mallory realized. "What the hell took him so long?"

"You know Sergei," Amadeus groaned. "The man has made enemies all over the place. He's been working on his list. But it's gotten a lot shorter the past few years. And guess whose names are next?"

"So **that's** why you've contacted me," Mallory put it together.

"Do you really want to go after the White Dragon **alone** Mallory?" Amadeus snapped. "Because if you do be my guest! I look forward to reading your obituary!"

"I see your point!" Mallory snapped. "Fine. We'll work together on this. But **only** this! But after this mission I expect you out of LA on the first flight out!"

Amadeus gave her a look. "I've lived in this city for over twenty years woman! You go back to New York!"

Then he smirked. "Oh right. You **can't**. You were run out of the city!"

"I was not run out!" Mallory protested. "I left on an extended vacation."

"That's not what I heard," Amadeus snorted. "By the way, sorry about your marriage going down the crapper. Then again you lasted a lot longer than I expected. And I'm amazed the chap you married survived!"

"We're still married!" Mallory snapped.

"Seriously?" Amadeus blinked.

"Speaking of survival why aren't you dead by now?" Mallory asked.

"Because unlike you, I knew when to get out of the game," Amadeus picked up a hot dog. "But I still have my contacts and my contacts have me. It doesn't hurt to still have some friends. You should try it sometime."

"I have plenty of friends," Mallory challenged.

"Name **one,** " Amadeus gave her a look. "One that's not _dead,_ _disgraced_ or has _disavowed_ you! Because I believe that list has gotten very short over the years."

"While the list of my enemies has gotten longer," Mallory said. "I get it. Fine. Do you know where he is?"

"I know where he will be," Amadeus said. "You still have your silencer?"

"In my purse," Mallory admitted.

"Good, you're going to need it," Amadeus took a bite out of his hot dog. "Go on. Eat. These are very good."

"I'm only having one to keep up my strength," Mallory grumbled as she took a bite. "Not bad. But is there a wine pairing?"

Amadeus laughed. "Same old Mallory. You were always were an uptight snob putting on airs. I remember that night at fancy restaurant in Nice. What was it called? Le Chat de le Crème?"

"It's should have been called Cat's Piss," Mallory grumbled. "That's the quality of the wine they served!"

"Still no reason to blow it up," Amadeus shrugged.

"That's not why I did it!" Mallory snapped. "We had to provide a reasonable cover for all those Germans we killed. A gas leak was the most plausible way."

"And the fact that the restaurant wasn't using gas didn't stop you," Amadeus snorted.

"I didn't come here to reminisce about the good old days," Mallory gave him a look.

"They may have been old but as memory serves me they weren't very good," Amadeus gave her a look. "Well maybe one or two of them were rather pleasant…"

"Let's go find a better place to discuss what we need to do," Mallory sighed as she put down her hot dog. "The sooner we get this over with the faster I can go back to my life."

"Such as it is," Amadeus shrugged.

"I'll have you know that I am now a partner at an up and coming detective agency," Mallory bristled.

"Run by a former employee who you are using like a puppet," Amadeus gave her a look. "Staffed by your son, your son's baby mama and the gang of idiots you've kept as pets all these years. Very impressive."

"It is!" Mallory snapped. "As a matter of fact we have a huge job tonight which I have to miss out on! It's protecting a new artist and her work at a high level art show! A very glamourous important mission!"

Meanwhile later into the early evening…At a swanky nightclub downtown…

"You have got to be **kidding me**?" Archer shouted. "This is the **stupidest mission** I've ever heard of!"

"And there have been a lot of contenders for that title over the years!" Lana agreed. "But for once I agree with Archer! **Look** at this place!"

Archer, Ray, Cyril and Lana were standing in a very brightly and oddly decorated men's room. "Granted this isn't exactly a traditional art gallery room…" Cyril admitted.

"It's the **men's room**!" Archer shouted. "I think. What the hell are those things?"

"Oh those…" Cyril said. "Those are artworks as well. Alex thinks that urinals should be interesting as well as functional."

"We're guarding **urinals**?" Archer shouted. "Our job tonight is to protect **toilets**?"

"Wow, a perfect metaphor for our careers if there ever was one," Ray groaned.

"Not all the art is in the bathrooms!" Cyril protested.

"Oh really?" Archer barked. "Where's the rest of it? In the broom closet?"

"It's in the gallery," Cyril said. "But the most important pieces are right here."

"If these are the most important pieces I'd hate to see the least important ones!" Archer barked.

"Most of us will be walking the main gallery. You will be guarding the men's room and Pam will be watching the ladies' room," Cyril explained. "Both are decorated. And have artwork on the walls as well that are going to be for sale."

"I can tell you now I wouldn't pay a dime for this…And I am not going to pardon the expression," Archer growled. "Shit!"

"This is the latest thing in the art world!" Cyril protested. "Art that's functional as well as beautiful!"

"You mean the latest scam in the art world!" Archer barked. "I mean look at these things! How can you even go in them? That one looks like a white dragon that's ready to chomp your dick off!"

"Is that even a urinal **over there**?" Lana asked as she pointed to another one. "It looks like a jukebox."

"It is a jukebox and a urinal," Cyril explained. "It's a combo."

"So it plays music while you take a leak?" Archer did a double take.

"Why would anyone combine a jukebox and a urinal in a men's room?" Lana was stunned. "Wow I'm starting to think I really don't get art."

"Well people in clubs do spend more time in bathrooms than on the dance floor," Ray admitted.

"Why?" Lana asked.

"You're **kidding** right?" Archer snorted. "Even so this is beneath me!"

"Archer…" Lana sighed. "It's still work."

"Easy for **you** to say!" Archer barked. "You'll be out there! I'll be stuck **in here**! I'm not a washroom attendant Cyril!"

"No! They hired another guy to be an attendant," Cyril waved. "You're security. That's all."

"I'm a highly trained field agent! Not a toilet inspector!" Archer barked. "Forget it! I am **not** doing this!"

"Archer, how many hours to you need for a private detective license in this state?" Cyril gave him a look.

"How many I need or in general?" Archer asked.

"Either one," Cyril folded his arms.

"Uh…" Archer realized.

"It's a big number either way isn't it?" Cyril smirked. "The art show is almost five hours. And if it goes well you could be credited for up to six. Maybe more, depending on how much art we can move tonight."

"If you want to finish those hours you need to complete this assignment," Ray sighed. "Just like the rest of us."

"Archer we need the money," Lana placated him. "For our daughter."

"Uggghhh!" Archer rolled his eyes. "I **hate** it when you use the daughter card!"

"It is a good one," Lana smirked.

"Fine!" Archer let out a breath. "I don't suppose you could talk Ray into relieving me?"

"Phrasing," Ray said.

"Damn it!" Archer groaned.

"Trust me Archer your talents are better in the bathroom," Cyril said. "Phrasing!"

"God damn it!" Archer groaned. "I guess Pam's not exactly thrilled about being a step above washroom attendant is she?"

"Actually Pam seemed excited about this assignment," Cyril admitted.

"That's because Pam wolfed down a Big Burrito-Sushi Combo at the Mexican/Japanese fusion joint down the street," Ray told him.

"Oh dear God…" Cyril winced.

"Yeah you might want to see if you can find a big ass can of Lysol," Ray gave him a look.

"Ugh and it won't just be confined to the ladies' room if I know Pam's bowels," Lana groaned. "And sadly I do…"

"And the ladies' room is on the other side of the gallery so…" Archer blinked. "On second thought maybe I **should** stay in here all night?"

Meanwhile across town…

"I can't believe I have to stay **here** all night!" Mallory grumbled as she stood on a rooftop wearing black under her trench coat. She was looking through some binoculars at a gym across the street.

"Well we need to do some basic surveillance first," Amadeus told Mallory. He was wearing all black and preparing a rifle.

"Damn White Dragon!" Mallory grumbled. "It figures you know? Every time there was a major operation I wanted to be a part of, I couldn't because I had to go take care of the White Dragon!"

"Yes I remember he's put a crimp in a few of my engagements if memory serves me correctly," Amadeus sighed.

"I had a shot to go to not one, but **two** presidential balls and what happens?" Mallory snapped. "I end up chasing this clown all night! I could have been hobnobbing with senators and congressmen. Instead I ended up in a sewer full of rats and slime!"

"From what I've seen in politics over the years it's not that much difference," Amadeus snorted.

"I had a hot date one night with a B-List movie actor. And what happens?" Mallory went on. "I had to cancel because of Karnakov. And guess what happened next? He goes on a fallback date with Nancy Regan! I could have been the First Lady if it wasn't for him!"

"I'm sure the decorators at the White House owe the White Dragon a debt of gratitude which they could never fully repay," Amadeus quipped.

"And now, on one of the most important nights of my new career I'm stuck here chasing the dragon again!" Mallory grumbled. "While those idiots are screwing up the mission as we speak!"

"I'm sure it won't be that bad," Amadeus remarked.

"You don't know these people like I do," Mallory groaned. "Then again you were always rather lucky."

"Your son and his friends are providing security at an art gallery show," Amadeus gave her a look. "How badly could they screw **that** up?"

"You'd be surprised," Mallory sighed.

Back at the Art Gallery…

"Man I **love** this gig," Pam snorted. Only her feet were visible at a brightly colored stall with a mural of trees and dancing cows. "I'm getting paid for over two hours of quality dump time! AAAAAH! Much better!"

FLUSH!

"Okay that shouldn't happen," Pam remarked within the stall. "Let's try this again."

FLUSH!

"Uh hold on now…" Pam got up and tried again.

FLUSH! FLUSH! FLUSH!

"Damn low flow toilets," Pam grumbled as water started to leak from under the stall.

Let's go back to Mallory shall we?

"Trust me, it's **never** outside the realm of possibility on how badly those idiots could screw up a mission!" Mallory told Amadeus. "I learned that the hard way!"

"If they're so terrible why did you keep them?" Amadeus asked.

"You really think if I could get **anyone else** I wouldn't have let them go a long time ago?" Mallory groaned. "God even Sterling…I gave that boy **every chance!** Every opportunity I could think of! Put all my faith in him and what did it get me? Disgraced! Disbarred! Disavowed! That's where it got me! This is all **his fault!"**

Back at the gallery…

"This is all my mother's fault," Archer grumbled as he leaned against the wall in the bathroom. "Seriously, if you think about it, this is all **her fault."**

"You're just mad because you're stuck in here while the rest of the party is outside," Krieger told him. He was wearing a red silk shirt with black pants and shoes.

"I mean I admit Mother gave me some really shitty jobs but never **this bad** ," Archer groaned. "This is just one of Cyril's pathetic little paybacks I just know it!"

"To be honest Archer you're not missing that much," Krieger told him. "For one thing it smells better in here than out there."

"What do you mean?" Archer asked. "And as soon as I asked the question…"

Over at the ladies' room…

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE AREN'T ANY MOPS?" Pam was heard shouting from behind the door of the ladies' room. "Uh oh… There goes Number Four! Unable to handle a number two!"

Back at the Men's room…

"Pam and low flow toilets are a bad combination," Krieger shrugged. "Unfortunately so are Cheryl and Cranberry Palomas."

Out in the gallery…

"Peeeee—ewwwwwww!" Cheryl laughed drunkenly holding her nose. "What **smells**? Oh yeah, it's all this bad art! HE HE HE!"

She accidentally knocked over a small piece and it broke as it hit the floor. "Oops! No wait," Cheryl giggled. "It looks better broken!"

Back to the Men's room again…

"There's Cranberry Palomas out there?" Archer frowned. "Damn it! No wait, I don't think I like Cranberry Palomas. Do I?"

"And Cyril is not exactly the world's greatest conversationalist when it comes to art," Krieger added.

Back out to the gallery…

Cyril was standing looking at something on a wall with a group of well-dressed people around him. "Hmmm….Yes this is very postmodern. It clearly uses irony well to describe man's frustration at the constraints within society."

"It is a sign," One man looked at him.

"Yes a sign that we need to struggle within the rules of society to find our true selves!" Cyril said triumphantly.

"No, idiot," The man glared at him. "It's an **actual** sign."

And it was. The sign read, DO NOT TOUCH THE PAINTINGS.

"Idiot," The man said again before he and his crowd moved off.

"Oh…" Cyril frowned as he was left alone. "I was wondering why it was the only thing on the walls that actually made sense."

Back in the Men's room…

"Or is it Orange Palomas I don't like?" Archer kept thinking aloud. "Or maybe just Palomas in general? It's been a while since I've had one I've forgotten."

Archer looked around. "Speaking of forgotten I think the bathroom attendant forgot he had a job tonight. Never showed up."

"That's a bummer," Krieger frowned.

"Not really," Archer shrugged. "Made over twenty bucks in tips for just pointing out where the hand dryers are."

"Yeah where are the hand dryers?" Krieger asked. "I need to know because I gotta take a leak and after I wash my hands…"

"They're over there," Archer pointed. "That thing that looks like a giant nostril."

"Yeesh," Krieger winced. "I think I'll just use my pants."

"I highly recommend that," Archer nodded. "Interestingly enough I made an extra fifty bucks tonight telling guys not to use the nose hand dryer. Or the urinal that looks like a dragon."

"So this is actually a good night for you," Krieger said as he went to do his business.

"Not as good as Ray's," Archer snorted. "Speaking of which…"

He went to a closed stall and knocked on it. "Avon calling!"

" **What?"** Ray opened the door with an angry look on his face. His shirt was unbuttoned and so was his fly. "I'm busy here!"

"Aren't you supposed to be schmoozing up to some art critic or something?" Archer asked acidly.

"Who do you think I'm **in here** with?" Ray pointed with his thumb.

"Hello…" A male voice said sheepishly.

"Oh sorry," Archer apologized. "Didn't know you were on the job."

"Phrasing," Krieger chuckled. "Now how do you flush this thing? Do you push a button or…?"

FOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

"What the….?" Ray gasped as a huge plume of smoke billowed out of the urinal into the room.

"Is it **supposed** to blow smoke?" Krieger shouted.

"I DON'T KNOW!" Archer shouted above the smoke. "Try pushing whatever you pushed again!"

"I'm trying! I'm trying!" Krieger pushed buttons. "Maybe this lever…?"

More smoke billowed out. And some laser lights strobed up the room. Then some weird disco music. "It's official! This is some kind of revenge prank!" Archer barked. "This Malix broad probably cooked this up to get back at all men!"

"Why would she do **that**?" Ray screamed above the smoke.

"Because all women are jealous that they have to wait in line for a bathroom and men usually don't!" Archer barked. "It's a fact! Look it up!"

"I can't look at **anything** with all this damn smoke everywhere!" Ray shouted as the smoke covered the room.

"Push more buttons!" Archer shouted. "Here! I'll push more of them!"

More smoke and more strobe lights sounded. Then an alarm. " _Now what?"_ Archer shouted. "Krieger what button did you push?"

"I think that's the actual smoke alarm!" Krieger said. "Wait, maybe this button does something?"

It did. Mini fireworks started to go off among the smoke and the strobe lights. "Well this is not helping," Krieger said within the smoke.

Back to Mallory…

"Those idiots need help to flush a toilet, much less do an actual mission!" Mallory barked as they cautiously crossed the street into the alley next to the gym. "Are you sure this is the place?"

"Yes for the fortieth time!" Amadeus snapped. "My sources told me that the White Dragon has a partner called the Blue Dragon and he owns this gym where he's planning his revenge!"

"Blue Dragon?" Mallory gave him a look.

"Maybe they're related?" Amadeus shrugged. "I mean it's possible."

"The only thing that's possible is that the White Dragon is going to be slain once and for all!" Mallory growled. "I say we rush in guns blazing and blow up the bastard!"

"Oh yes charge right in against a man who is six foot four and built like a linebacker for the Pittsburg Steelers," Amadeus rolled his eyes. "Remember what he did in Cuba? He bit a man's ear and ended up pulling his **head off!"**

"To be fair it was a communist," Mallory shrugged. "Not like he used it much to begin with."

"You know the White Dragon is probably wearing a vest right?" Amadeus warned her. "Like the few times we've encountered him before?"

"So we'll aim for his freaking head!" Mallory growled. "Just don't blow this like you did back in Lisbon."

" **Excuse me?"** Amadeus said indignantly. "I believe your memory is starting to go. Because I clearly remember **you** screwing up Lisbon!"

"I did not!" Mallory shouted. "You screwed up that mission!"

Amadeus hissed back. "I am not the one who ran out in the middle of a firefight topless wearing only strategically placed whipped cream shouting at the top of my lungs, 'Look at my breasts! These are perfect!'"

"Well it made it easier to shoot the enemy didn't it?" Mallory snapped. "And you still missed most of the targets!"

"Why don't you shout a little **louder** Mallory?" Amadeus snarled. "I'm sure both dragons and their squad of killers can hear you better!"

"SO WHAT IF I'M SHOUTING! I'M SHOUTING! I'M SHOUTING! I'M SHOUTING!" Mallory shouted.

Then they both stiffed up. They looked around tensely. "All right, normally that's the point where we get caught," Amadeus looked around. "So either the guards are drunk…"

"Since when are Russians assassins drunk on Russian vodka?" Mallory scoffed. "They're weaned on it!"

"Let's just get in the back before something goes wrong!" Amadeus snarled.

"You mean before **something else** goes wrong!" Mallory groaned as they made their way.

"What do you mean?" Amadeus asked.

Back at the gallery…

People were running out of the gallery screaming. Their shoes were wet soaking wet. Alarms were going off. Smoke and strobe lights were pouring out. A fire could be seen in the back window. And the sounds of fire engines were getting closer.

"WHO THE HELL PUTS FIREWORKS IN A URINAL?" Archer was heard shouting.

Back to Mallory…

"Who the hell has a secret base without any guards?" Mallory remarked as they made their way through the darkened gym. "Seriously, someone should have shot at us by now!"

"The night is still young for you to be **shot at** ," Amadeus growled.

"Shhh!" Mallory motioned to a room with a light on. "He must be in there."

Both moved silently to the room. With a nod to each other they prepared to burst in there.

"Come in my friends, I've been expecting you…" A gruff Russian accent was heard. "Come in. Come in."

Amadeus kicked the door open. "It's been a while White Dragon!"

Sitting in a large chair behind a desk was a thin wispy man with steel cold grey eyes and a beard. As he stood up they could see he was wearing a green camouflage uniform. "Yes…It has been a long time."

"Wow, he really lost a lot of muscle mass from being in that coma all those years didn't he?" Mallory remarked.

"He's still a dangerous threat," Amadeus warned. "Be prepared for anything."

"It's been a long time my friends," Sergei walked around the desk. "A very long time. So I'd like to begin the audition by singing a medley of my own favorites. And a one, and a two…"

He took a deep breath. Then sang. _"Wave the flag boys, hearts and hands boys show them how we stand! I am a roving gambler! How do you do?"_

"What?" Mallory blinked.

" _It's raining sunshine!"_ Sergei began to dance and wave his hands in a jazz hands style. _"It's raining sunshine! And it's music to my ears! It's raining sunshine! It's raining sunshine!"_

Mallory's jaw dropped. "Okay I admit it. I was **not** prepared for **that.** "

"If this is a trick to confuse us," Amadeus blinked and the White Dragon sang and danced around. "It's working!"

" _It's raining sunshine!"_ Sergei danced happily. _"It's raining sunshine!"_

"What the hell is the matter with you, you old fool?" Mallory shouted.

"He has dementia."

"Who the hell are you?" Mallory turned to see a young man with brown hair in a black jacket and jeans behind them.

"I'm Stavros. AKA the Blue Dragon," The man sighed. "I'm the White Dragon's grandson."

"Told you," Amadeus gave Mallory a look.

"Fine I owe you a drink," Mallory rolled her eyes and pointed her gun at Stavros. "So what? You run a mercenary business like your grandfather?"

"Actually I run a gym in Anaheim," Stavros sighed. "I made up the Blue Dragon persona to help my grandfather when he has one of his…episodes."

"Made up?" Amadeus frowned. "And what do you mean by episodes?"

" _I'm a little tea pot short and stout!"_ Sergei giggled as he danced around. _"This is my handle this is my spout!"_

"Okay now I get what you mean by episodes," Amadeus groaned.

"I should explain," Stavros sighed.

"Please do," Mallory said as they put away their guns.

"It started two years ago," Stavros sighed. "The doctors say he is going to get worse. A lot worse. There is no cure so…I asked around and well…I want my grandfather to go out with dignity. Not to slowly deteriorate into…"

"Go and catch a falling star…" Sergei danced wildly around.

"I get the picture," Mallory stopped him.

"Look I know it sounds strange to you for me to ask you to do this," Stavros sighed. "But I love my grandfather too much to let him suffer. But I can't shoot the man or kill him so…"

"So you put a fake revenge scheme in motion in hoping that he'd be killed by one of his old enemies?" Mallory was stunned.

"Yeah I know. It sounds ridiculous," Stavros sighed as his grandfather danced around. "And pretty callous but…"

"Actually I wish my own son would do that for me if I ever lost my marbles," Mallory sighed. "But knowing that idiot he'd probably film it for the Internet. Or give me over to Krieger to experiment on or…The point is I get it."

"You do?" Stavros asked.

"Don't get me wrong I've wanted to kill your grandfather for years," Mallory told him. "Decades actually. But uh, this is not the way I pictured it."

"You didn't know your grandfather back in the day," Amadeus said. "He was a brute. Tore men apart with his bare hands. And I am not using a figure of speech. I have seen him literally tear people apart with his bare hands."

"Your grandfather was greatly feared and respected," Mallory agreed. "Demon in the sack too."

"Uh…" Stavros winced.

"What a shock," Amadeus rolled his eyes.

"It was before he double crossed the Allies obviously!" Mallory snapped. "And the Nazis. And the communists."

"He double crossed pretty much anyone really," Amadeus told him. "And was able to get away with it. He was a magnificent bastard in his own way."

"And damn if he wasn't well hung," Mallory added.

"Ewwww…" Stavros winced.

"TMI Mallory!" Amadeus snapped. "Seriously woman!"

"What?" Mallory asked. "It's a compliment!"

"It's an indication of your oversexed libido," Amadeus groaned.

"You never had any problem with that if I recall," Mallory told him.

"Okay, definitely TMI!" Stavros groaned. "So how are we going to do this?"

"I…Have an idea," Mallory sighed. "And he won't suffer."

"You're not going to have sex with him to death are you?" Amadeus quipped. "Because I can tell you now…"

"No!" Mallory snapped. "Ass! It will look like an accident as well as fulfilling his final wishes. Now which way to the ocean again?"

Not much longer after that…

"All right General do you remember your mission?" Mallory asked as the three of them were at the beach at night. Mallory and Amadeus had changed into camouflage clothes as well.

"Is this a war picture?" Sergei blinked.

"Yeah the cameras are hidden in the dunes," Mallory sighed.

"Remember, we go out into the ocean," Amadeus instructed. "Wait a minute and then we storm the beach! Got it?"

"Got it!" Sergei grinned. Then he smiled at Mallory. "I can't believe you're here! It's an honor to star in the same film as you Ms. Davis!"

"Wonderful," Mallory sighed. "I'll give my love to Ronnie for you. By the way you did take your vitamins right?"

"Yes. Strange policy giving actors vitamins before they do a scene," Sergei remarked.

"Well you know? Lawyers and all that," Amadeus said. "The studio has to protect itself against liabilities. And we are going into a cold ocean for a scene so…"

"So in order to protect us against getting sick…" Mallory suggested.

"That's what the vitamin was for!" Sergei chuckled. "Very clever. Ooh! I feel it working already!"

"Good. They're fast acting vitamins," Mallory groaned. "Now into the ocean!"

"Wait if this is a beach invasion where are the guns?" Sergei blinked.

"They're on the beach. Put there by spies in order to surprise the enemy," Mallory lied.

"Oh that makes perfect sense," Sergei said as they went into the ocean.

"I'm glad **something** about this plan does," Amadeus grumbled.

They went in until the water was up to their waists. "Good thing the water is calm tonight!" Sergei sputtered. "Ooh! A wave!"

"Yeah great…Now remember…" Mallory let out a breath. "You're storming the beaches. Ready to fight the enemy!"

"Hang on…"Sergei blinked. "This sounds familiar…"

"Oh boy…" Amadeus groaned.

"Yes, yes it's all coming back to me now…" Sergei had a faraway look in his eyes. "The enemy was lying on the beach. But they had no idea what was coming! I will rip them to shreds! I will tear them to pieces with my bare hands! For I am the White Dragon! And I will crush my enemies! I will…"

Then Sergei passed out. "I thought that knock out pill you gave him would never kick in!" Mallory groaned.

"Just help me hold his head underwater until he drowns!" Amadeus snapped. "Damn it woman! Why did you pick **this** plan? I'm already freezing to death in here!"

"So it will look like an accidental drowning from one of his delusions!" Mallory snapped back as they held him down. "I've done this at least three times before!"

"Just hurry up and die you bastard before someone shows up!" Amadeus snapped at the body that wasn't even flailing around.

Sometime later in a nearby bar…After the two had changed and dried off.

"Well that's that then," Amadeus sighed as he drank a glass of scotch in a booth with Mallory. "I've made the necessary arrangements with some friends of mine. As far as the coroner's report will indicate Sergei died by accident. Not bad for a night's work."

"We did the right thing didn't we?" Mallory asked as she looked at her glass. She was back to wearing her trench coat over her black outfit.

"Of course we did," Amadeus told her. "People like us don't deserve to waste away in retirement homes."

"Don't you live in a retirement home?" Mallory raised an eyebrow.

"It's an over 55 community! Big difference!" Amadeus snapped. "I have my own house by a golf course. I can see the third green right off my porch."

He gave her a look. "Besides, since when did **you** care about _someone else's_ life?"

"Just made me think that's all," Mallory sighed. "Let's face it. I'm not getting any younger. You're not getting any younger. Most of our friends and rivals are either dead, dying or…"

"Their brains have figuratively turned to cabbage," Amadeus sighed. "I know. That's why I got out of the game years ago. But every now and then something pulls me right back in."

"We're the last of a dying breed you and I," Mallory took a puff on her cigarette. "Lord knows I tried to groom Sterling to be a spy like me. But..."

"Say no more," Amadeus groaned. "Kids!"

Mallory looked at him. " **You** have _kids_?"

"Four," Amadeus nodded. "Been married twice. Both wives died on me. Yes I have children. And five grandchildren. With a sixth on the way."

" **Six** grandchildren?" Mallory gasped. "God I can barely handle being the grandmother of two. That I know about."

"I like 'em," Amadeus grinned. "They got spunk. Keep me young!"

"Did any of your kids go in the business?"

"Oh god no!" Amadeus snorted. "Most of them don't even know I was in the business. Except for my only son, Andrew. But that's because he's my accountant. And even then he doesn't know everything. He definitely doesn't know about my first wife's connection to the Nazis. As far as my family knows their father and grandpop was just a soldier in the war and a businessman that made a lot of trips overseas."

"Maybe I shouldn't have pushed Sterling into the life?" Mallory sighed. "In hindsight he was not exactly the world's greatest spy."

"So he's a detective now?" Amadeus asked.

"Barely one…" Mallory groaned.

"You know more are coming right?" Amadeus told her. "And they won't be as easy as The White Dragon."

"Easy? You call mercy killing a man who was once one of my most powerful arch rivals because his grandson couldn't take him wasting away and turning into a singing idiot **easy?** " Mallory gave him a look.

"You know what I mean," Amadeus waved.

"Sadly I do," Mallory sighed. "And yes. I am aware of that fact thank you very much. And you're one to talk. Last I checked you have enemies too."

"Not as many as you," Amadeus shrugged. "Most are dead or dying. A lot of them I just paid off. Some of them settled down and had families too. Hell, Jaguar Jones is my next door neighbor and golf buddy."

"Jaguar Jones?" Mallory was stunned. "The man once took a blood oath to kill you by biting the still beating heart of one of the lions you threw him into a pit with!"

"Eh, he really mellowed after his second heart attack," Amadeus shrugged.

"Obviously," Mallory blinked. "I'm not that worried. I've still got it. And besides, I have Sterling and the rest of the agency to back me up if I really need help."

"What's that on the television screen over there?" Amadeus frowned as he looked over.

Not far from them was a large television screen on the wall. The bar was mostly empty so they could hear what the reporter was saying.

"This is Darlene Love," A stylish African American woman holding a microphone stood in front of a scene of fire trucks and a building on fire. "Another night of fire and fear in Los Angeles. And yet another scandal for the failed actress Alex Malix. As she reportedly started a fire in her own art show."

"I'LL KILL YOU!" Alex Malix was seen chasing around Archer, Krieger and Pam with a fireman's axe. "YOU ARE THE WORST SECURITY GUARDS EVER! I'LL KILL YOU!"

"That's the low blood sugar talking!" Pam shouted. "You should eat something you skinny bitch!"

"EAT COLD METAL!" Alex screamed as she chased them on camera.

"Oh dear God no…" Mallory groaned.

"Isn't that…?" Amadeus blinked.

"Yes!" Mallory gritted her teeth.

"Reports are conflicting," Darlene reported. "But witnesses say that the disturbance started when the bathrooms started to leak due to faulty plumbing."

"FAULTY PLUMBING MY ASS!" Alex Malix was heard screaming. "THIS ONE OVERLOADED THE SYSTEM WITH HER HUGE BOWEL MOVEMENTS!"

"LOW FLOW TOILETS SUCK!" Pam was heard shouting. "IT WAS LIKE FREAKING NIAGRA FALLS IN THERE!"

"Also Malix got into a heated discussion with one of the guests," Darlene went on. "Which resulted into an altercation."

"THAT RED HAIRED DRUNKEN BITCH DESTROYED HALF OF MY ART!" Alex Malix was heard off camera. "AND THEN THESE IDIOTS DESTROYED THE REST OF IT!"

"AGAIN! WHO PUTS FIREWORKS AND SMOKE IN A URINAL?" Archer was heard shouting off camera.

"Reports are that Malix set off the fire and started a fight," Darlene kept going.

Behind her was a sheepish looking Cyril meekly waving hello. Lana looking equally embarrassed yanked him off screen.

"YOU IDIOTS RUINED MY CAREER!" Alex Malix was heard off screen. "I'M GONNA SUE YOU ALL! I'M GOING TO…URRRKK!"

The camera panned to Alex Malix lying on the ground with several darts in her rear. A SWAT team was apprehending her. "Okay which one of you shot off the tranqs?" An officer asked. "I'm not mad. I just want to say good job."

Behind them was Krieger walking away whistling casually. "Oh by the way officers," He called out. "I saw her taking some kind of drug. So don't be surprised if you find drugs in her system."

"Figures," The head officer groaned. "You realize Malix this violates your probation! And this time you're **actually** going to jail and not rehab! Well you'd know this if you weren't unconscious."

"There you have it folks," The camera was on Darlene again. "Alex Malix has had a major mental breakdown and…"

KA-BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

"What the hell?" Darlene yelled as she turned around and saw the art gallery on fire. "Are those **fireworks** coming out of there? And is that music playing?"

"BEST ART SHOW EVER!" Cheryl squealed off camera.

"You were **saying**?" Amadeus gave her a look.

"Great. I'm screwed," Mallory groaned.


End file.
